cellar door
behind the closed cellar door
time ferments
a discarded bowl
of hollowed fruit
poisons the bellies of flies
the sidewalk outside sprouts yellow wings
posted by Scheherazade | 8/12/2006 01:02:00 PM
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Saturday, August 12, 2006
behind the closed cellar door
time ferments
a discarded bowl
of hollowed fruit
poisons the bellies of flies
the sidewalk outside sprouts yellow wings
23 Comments:
Oooo... The cellar...brings the dark edges and then the door is opened at the end and the light of truth's juxtaposition (children skipping rope) emerges in a painful stream.
Nice.
Thanks PM; if you see this again, tell me if you think the last line works or if "while children skip rope in the sun" was better (even if it was sentimental) as a closing line
I like this one. It has the feel of a haiku to me, like describing a sublime scene of just what is, right now. No description of emotions or right/wrong with respect to the flies; just "hollowed fruit / poisons the bellies of flies".
And I like this second ending better. It provides an interesting contrast to the first stanza, without being as cliched as children skipping rope. Yet it conveys youthful exuberance and joy in the sprouting!
I think I like it too Mike. Been tinkering with it all day. Way too distracted. But I like where it's ended.
And thank you for "sublime." Golly. That's a feel good.
Yellow chalk? Yellow sun? ...wings of of yellow (green)? Chalk chokes the end... perhaps. It is a strong word "chalk". ???
"the sidewalk outside sprouts wings in yellow chalk"
-the sidewalk outside sprouts wings of green and yellow (yellow and green)...?
OOOH THAT YELLOW SIDEWALK STUFF AGAIN !
Glenn: thank you for your lovely comments this morning (on GD and WP especially). much appreciated. and devoured. made my cup of tea this mornin' .
and yes. i am sentimental for that yellow brick road kinda imagery
PM: yes! yes! i think you're right. chalk was rough (but then, i kinda liked the hard edge connotation brushed up against a childlike image). i think it's softer and balanced now (yellow and cellar). and i tend to want to land on bright sand when my poems go dark--sentimental yes.
was also trying to play a little with stream of conscious and unconscious poetic, if they don't cancel each other out--don't want to get too caught up in aesthetic though--from cellar to ferment to fruit to flies to wings. cellar door was the genesis though. spinning off that lovely word combo (donnie darko's been on my mind of late).
funny about yellowgreen. luv that combo. i wrote a soccer poem called yellowgreen for the cup as well. ah, brasil!
thanks for helping me work it out.
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I agree with Mike. This one has a haiku feel to it that presents the reality of the moment. The imagery's just striking. I can almost smell the bad fruit. ;-)
Going past that closed door is a step to look forward to. The last line's a promise of good things to come--yellows and sprouts and wings.
Beautiful, dear.
The surreal transference from the cellar to outside is almost tangible. I definitely like the last line as is. The sprouting of wings gives hope.
Does this form of poetry have a name?
cellar door - donnie darko / linguistics
i can hear your voice singing this poem, yasmin. for that i love it the most.
and "hollowed fruit"
this is such a projective verse. the perfect example of sound = poetry.
this is those red lips.
The two most beautiful words...cellar door. Darko is one of my all time (American movie) favorites.
The poem, my friend, must always be changing. Changing to the extent that it is always changing in us.
Peace.
Cecilia: thank you ms. candy dandelion; i had whittled this down to something i wanted to be compact and smooth, but not limited to 5-7-5. i liked the result.
Ô¿Ô: hello trans-man. you know it was a conscious attempt to work with form over context and word economy. been reading the objectivist poets, specifically Lorine Niedecker, who I find to be absolutely amazing (a little Wiki work for you); read her in undergrad; rediscovering her now
Lady Katy: sometimes you just leave me speechless; so now i have a signature poem, eh? i must admit i did want something i could easily memorize and i do find myself repeating this poem throughout the day--i know it sounds vain--but you're right, it's the sound of the words that carries me!
PM: oh yeah; how can Donnie Darko not leave it's imprint! one of the few films i can watch repeatedly and still feel a bit clueless and amazed...and i do think Tolkien was right (i did research the cellar door statement and am going with the Tolkien theory) it is a beautiful combination
The fermentation of time
Effecting us so sublime
Youth effortlessly subdued
Regardless of how it is viewed
too true
I come back to this one often. Distilled spirits hiding behind cellar doors. Drunk with life and death. Real poetry!
Bolshoi spaceeba chef!
(gotta look up the slovo for "chef", but i do know that you're praise is ochen ochen vakusnoy!)
Your poetry is what real taste is about. Obeechna onee skazali glavne chef povar. Drugoy slova nyeto
You're right. "Povar" doesn't do it justice.
I prefer "kydoshnik" or "mastare".
After all, you are more artist than cook.
Thanks again for your support mastare.
OMG, this REALLY sank its teeth into me from the start, like fangs.
Startk, pungent, putrid, eeire, devastation, sadness, abandonment, jailed-
Amazing work!
thank you so much m00n! i kinda really love this one more than the others. it's my pearl. glad you like it too.
Yes , time of the past does seem to ferment .
So many long gone days "ferment" in me .
(Yet I hope that the "wine" will be more abundant than the "vinegar" .)
Clearview Avenue in Lakeland, Florida was a place where time fermented ...or the traces of time ... I wish the buzzing azalea hedge where I read Ecclesiastes and the dictionary of architectural terms, two years ago in March and April of 2004, was still there !
jay at mudstones2@aol.com
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